Sugar Daddies Read online

  Sugar Daddies

  Celia Crown

  Copyright © 2019 by Celia Crown

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are from the author's imagination or folklore, legends, and general myths.

  The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, and locales, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

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  Editor: Syeda Erum Fatima Naqvi

  Contents

  Copyright

  Sugar Daddies

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Author’s other works!

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  Sugar Daddies

  by Celia Crown

  Pepper

  My world revolves around Daddy.

  He’s big, grouchy, and mean, but he loves me so much that I get a toothache from how under all that bitterness lays a sweet man who spoils me.

  Successful in running his billion-dollar international company, Daddy is contradictory to the yummy sweets that he would bring home for me.

  I love being controlled by him; it feels right to be dependent on him as he takes good care of me.

  He is my lifeline, and I would do anything to stay his good, little girl.

  Then, Mr. Stephan comes in with his equally massive body, stormy eyes of a pent-up predator, and a desire to stay in my heart forever.

  He also wants to be my Daddy, but I don’t know how that’s going to work. Daddy is too possessive of me; he would never let another man touch me.

  I’m selfish; I want to be Mr. Stephan’s little princess and Daddy’s little girl.

  I don’t know what to do.

  Chapter One

  Pepper

  Daddy is possessive.

  He doesn’t let me look at other men, and he would punish me for breathing in their direction, and my butt would be sore if I were to even ask for directions from a man.

  Everything in my life is under his control, and I like being taken care of. I never have to worry about bills or rent anymore. Daddy says that as long as I do everything he says, he’s never going to let me down no matter how much I mess up.

  He’s kind but strict, gentle with a temper, and a stern dominant who won’t hesitate to put me in my place. It’s not that I can help it; his form of punishments always leaves me on our bed used and aching.

  I might have intentionally riled him up on more than one occasions.

  My eyes tend to stray, and it’s not because I find another man better than my Daddy. It’s just curiosity about the way they walk, the tone they speak in, and the gaze they set on different things. It’s intriguing, but no one can capture my attention like Daddy.

  He is a force to be reckoned with.

  Daddy is strong.

  He runs a company that makes the best hard candies, and he takes the samples home for me to taste. If I don’t like the flavor, he changes the recipe. If I don’t like the texture, he changes the formula.

  There was this one piece of candy that gave me a little cut on my tongue, and Daddy terminated the entire line. I heard it cost him millions of dollars. I felt so bad that I had to beg him to put the line back because other workers had done hard work on it.

  In the end, he didn’t continue that particular candy.

  I’m pretty sure that he is more than a billionaire. That’s my estimate; I don’t see how he can have a mansion, a yacht, and several planes with just millions of dollars.

  His strength doesn’t just come from his ability to run an international business.

  Daddy’s body puts professional bodybuilders to shame. He’s too tall, too muscular, and too intimidating. His beast of a body aside, the dark ink on his skin is enough to put someone in their place without uttering a word.

  What scares everyone, including me, is his temper. When he is angry, his muscles tense up, and the death glare in his eyes strikes fear in my tummy. Then, his volume would raise, and it is programmed in me to be frightened of his voice.

  I would have this paralyzing fear of Daddy’s volatile temper and villainous wrath.

  I have seen it, and I never want to be on the receiving end of his anger. I hear it a lot when Daddy talks over the phone about contracts or business-related matters.

  When Daddy is angry, he is more possessive and vice versa. Those two factors fuel each other, and I’m always the one who ends up over his lap with a good spanking for things I haven’t done yet. Punishing me is an outlet that Daddy and I agreed on, and I’m always ready when I see the storm raging in his eyes or the tightness of his frame.

  One word and I’m on my knees worshipping his big cock.

  I know all those things, so why is this mysterious man making my heart skip a beat?

  He’s very similar to Daddy, with the body of a warrior and the simmering growl of a beat in his voice, and the heat pools in my panties when he looks at me.

  I can’t look away; his presence demands that I kneel down to him and maybe I’m having too much fun admiring the tattoo peeking out from his expensive black suit. The gold watch seems as heavy as its price with the need to reflect off the light of the morning sun.

  The distinguishable feature that stands out to me is his hair and eyes; they are lighter than Daddy’s, but they hold the same rawness and unrelenting command for obedience.

  Seeing a specimen this fine would surely result in a severe ass spanking from Daddy when he finds out, and he always somehow knows. I learned from early on that hiding things from him is just as bad as lying.

  I say they are different things, but he says otherwise with a steamy night in bed to make sure that his lesson is ingrained in my head.

  “Can I help you?” I ask, and the more pressing question is where Daddy is because I’m not equipped to deal with another man that makes my tummy flutter just like Daddy.

  I’m conflicted, and I don’t want to get on any of their bad sides.

  What if I say something and it offends him? What if he’s someone from another company and wants to do a collaboration with Daddy? What if he—

  “Calm down, little girl,” said the man using the same name that my heart seems to react to. His tone is velvety and silky.

  Only Daddy calls me that and it’s making me feel hot. I’m not supposed to feel this way for anyone other than Daddy.

  I swallow thickly, palms clammy with nerves, twitching in the awareness that the man is boring holes on my forehead.

  “My name is Stephan,” he says.

  The striking halo behind him from the sunlight dims as a dark cloud eats up space. Nothing can prepare me for this moment; I can’t control the shivers that run down my body when he steps closer. He’s too close for Daddy’s rules to not ring loudly in my head, so I take a step back like the good girl that I am.

  “Stop,” Stephan commands, and I want to die.

  My body did stop. I’m not aware that I’m capable of listening to anyone’s orders other than Daddy’s and I’m afraid of what he’ll say when he finds out.

  Would he be mad that I’m a bad girl for wanting another man?

  I can’t. No matter how much my little heart thrums for this deviously handsome man, I have to resist his sexine
ss, or I will have to face dire consequences.

  “You’re Pepper,” he says, and I nod nervously.

  Another bad sign. He knows my name; this is getting too overwhelming. I’m not familiar with actions that needed to be taken in his situation. Daddy never taught me what I should do and what I should say at a time like this.

  Speaking of Daddy, where is he when I need him?

  “You don’t need to fear me,” he steps in front of me. I twist my fingers, and the humming of blood in my ears grows louder.

  His scent invades my nose, and I try not to breathe it in. There is a faint smell of something inexplicably deep. My tongue is thick and useless in my mouth, but my eyes are always the better speaker in figuratively speaking.

  Mr. Stephan has to see the shyness and awkwardness, and my body isn’t exactly subtle when I’m confronted with something beyond my area of expertise.

  I don’t have many skills, and this is definitely not one. Dealing with hot and demanding men is a skill that is for seductresses and femme fatales, and it’s certainly not for little girls barely old enough to drink.

  I have never even been to a night club. I think it’s an unspoken mandatory experience everyone needs to have before they reach twenty-one. Underage drinking and sweaty people are parts of the experience that I do not want to think about; just the smell of bile and stale alcohol is nauseating.

  “Come sit with me,” Mr. Stephan said while taking my smaller hand in his big one.

  His grip is tight, and I can’t fight him off. He shoots a stern gaze from his shoulder, and I’m more pliable than play dough.

  As he steers me to the chair right in front of Daddy’s office desk, I briefly wonder if I can turn back time and not come into the office.

  Daddy doesn’t care that I go into his office. He just has to know where I am at all times so he can keep tabs on me. He knows that trouble follows me like a bad omen and he wants to know everything that goes down in every minute. I love his overprotectiveness.

  The hand around my small wrist is rough and callous, but it’s the pulse under his palm that forces my mind back to this predicament. Focusing on his wide back is safe for now, and the suit jacket is needlessly filling in the grooves of his muscles; it becomes a test to my confidence when he sits on the chair.

  One strong tug and I’m tumbling down to his chest. The way I fall lands me directly on his thick thighs, and he catches me with his bulky arms. My butt is nuzzled on the solid muscles of his thigh while he scoots me towards his big body. I try not to flinch when his hand wraps around one of my butt-cheeks.

  Do I fight and scratch his face like a cat?

  I have to do something instead of sitting on his lap in Daddy’s office. That’s so offensive to Daddy, and I have to find a way to get out before he sees. He’s going to be so disappointed in me if I don’t try.

  Maybe this is a test. Yes, it must be. No one in their right mind would touch me because everyone at his company knows that I belong to him in every way possible, and there is no room for another man.

  Especially not with Daddy’s temperament.

  “Max tells me you’re a good girl,” he rasps, lifting a hand to trail up my spine as fear strikes an iron fist through my big girl act.

  I’m not a big girl; I have always been a little girl and I love Daddy too much to actually feel this way. I’m not supposed to feel my panties wetting nor my nipples hardening under the pretty bra that was a present to me.

  It’s a bad dream. I mentally imagine Daddy’s angry face. It helps a little to divert my attention, but my limbs feel weighted down and I can’t stop the mewl from tumbling through my lips as Mr. Stephan presses something hard and hot on my thigh.

  I cut off that train of thought before it reaches some inappropriate place.

  “Are you?” Mr. Stephan growls, the dark details of his steel eyes cause my breath to hitch.

  “I-I’m a good girl,” I murmur softly, and he purrs through the lucidity of my apprehension.

  I don’t understand how this man knows what Daddy is thinking because no one can read the grouchy expression, but Mr. Stephan is able to know that Daddy calls me his good girl when I do something that pleases him.

  Did Daddy indirectly ask me through this man that I need to be a good girl for Mr. Stephan?

  No, Daddy wouldn’t do that. He’s too possessive of me to even share my attention with the television. There is no way, not in a million of light years, he would ever allow something like this to happen.

  He’d die if he lets someone equally attractive and domineering take a part of me.

  I promised Daddy that I’m all his and in return, he is all mine. I don’t plan on sharing him, and he shouldn’t have to share me either, no matter how hard my heart sings for Mr. Stephan.

  This could be the side effect of drugs that someone poisoned me with; it’s the only explanation that I can come up with as my body continues to be weird.

  “He was right,” he says, setting his hand back onto my butt while the other draws small circles on my thigh.

  The action is small and almost inconspicuous if I wasn’t too in tuned with Daddy’s touch. Everything else that touches me is uncomfortable, but Mr. Stephan makes me feel safe and guarded.

  His arms are an unyielding cage that should be suffocating, and I should be clawing my way out, but all I want to do is turn my head and sink into his warmth while I cuddle with his massive body weight crushing me to the bed.

  That’s a bad idea.

  Again, I’m not supposed to think of another man like that. My butt is still sensitive from the day before. That spanking is still throbbing dully on my cheeks as if it had taken permanent residence.

  The soreness is constantly there because Daddy spanks me at least twice a week, if not more frequently depending on how much of a spoiled brat I am at the time.

  Mr. Stephan’s voice is close to my ear, and a round of goosebumps exploded on my arms. I just realize that I’m very underdressed.

  “You think too much, little girl,” he takes my wrist and thumbs at the faint pulse under my skin.

  I keep my eyes on the tattoo peeking out of his sleeve, and it’s a good distraction before his hot breath fans over my wrist. His lips touch the skin briefly, and I swear my lungs are screaming at me to let my heart get the oxygen it requires to bruise itself on my ribs.

  “Y-you can’t do that!” I squeak lightly. I’m unable to raise my voice.

  I have no idea what this man is capable of, and from the way his energy rolls off his massive frame, I’d hazard a guess that his angry side can rival Daddy’s.

  “Do what?” He keeps his lips firmly on my wrist.

  “That!” I wriggle my wrist, and his fingers squeeze so hard that I can feel my muscles grinding down on my bone.

  Daddy’s going to kill me if I don’t get away right now.

  Just as the man is about to say something, he drops my hand, and I sigh a breath of relief. That is too short-lived because the hand that’s on my butt moves for a millisecond. It comes back with a vengeance; the sting on my butt jolts me forward, and I accidentally moaned.

  Yes, accidental. I refuse to admit that the sting feels good.

  “Do not raise your voice at me, little girl,” Mr. Stephan smacks my butt again.

  I open my mouth in instinctive practice, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  Mortification eats me alive as my body freezes, the blood curling in coldness as dread settles heavily in my belly and my hands clam up on my lap. Panic coursed through my system as I’m momentarily rendered into a stupor at my stupidity and inability to think of myself without having Daddy’s influence over me.

  “Max trained you well,” he nods in approval and the acknowledgment gives me a sense of sick pleasure.

  I’m so dead; it’s only a matter of time when Daddy puts his hands on me.

  “It’s no wonder he wants to keep you locked up. You do bring out a vile man out of me, little girl, and unless you want me to do something abo
ut it, I suggest you stop biting your lip.”

  My teeth release the swollen flesh that I had no idea I was chewing on. It’s a nervous habit that I developed when I was a child, and it’s been with me for years. Daddy said it was endearing because it riles him up. I would end up having more than aching lips by the time he was done with me.

  I feel like anything I do triggers Daddy’s sexual appetite, and I almost can’t catch up. Almost is the key word because I’m made for Daddy in many ways.

  “Pretty little thing,” he hums in my ear.

  A shiver runs down to my toes, and I wiggle them in my socks. I shouldn’t be the one embarrassed. I’m in Daddy’s home, and my outfit is only meant for him to see. Now this man has seen what is essentially Daddy’s right to see. I’m preparing for a more severe punishment than a spanking even though none of it is my fault.

  My back straightens unnaturally, and the hand on my butt continues to rub. There are chances for me to jump out of his lap, but the only problem is that my panties are soaked and there might be a stain on Mr. Stephan’s lap.

  The door opens, and I awkwardly peer over to Mr. Stephan’s shoulder. I avoid his searching gaze while my eyes brighten at Daddy’s strong body strolling through the door.

  My head twists from the distance that he makes it to me. He runs a hand over the top of my head and steps to his desk. My confusion is written all over my face; he’s not upset that another man is touching me. He’s not asking why Mr. Stephan is clinging onto me like a leech, and he’s not questioning why his little girl is conflicted.

  Daddy does notice because he’s telling me to sit still when I begin to wrestle out of Mr. Stephan’s really muscular arms. I can’t get very far when he is bigger and far stronger than my puny arms.

  There is a dissonance in my head because this is not how I imagined Daddy would react, and a part of me hates that he’s impassive as if he doesn’t care.

  Oh no. My insecurities are coming out. I worked so hard to push that side of me away, and with the help of Daddy, I can embrace the little girl in me and let it be real.